


Sickness & Health

by smarshtastic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Common Cold, Insecurity, M/M, Original Character(s), Sick Character, Sickfic, mcreyes - Freeform, reassurance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-09 03:58:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10403430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/pseuds/smarshtastic
Summary: It's a strange thing, being cared for, being taken care of, after so many years of having to do it all himself.---Jesse has a cold, and Gabe does his best to take care of him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/gifts).



> For the last day of [McReyes Spring Break](https://mcreyesevents.tumblr.com/), I give you: tenderness. 
> 
> As always, this is for [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/), who is quite possibly the world's best enabler. True story. We've been driving each other to write more than we've ever done before, and it's kind of amazing?! Literally could not have done it without her ♥
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://wictorwictor.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/smarshtastic).

It sneaks up on him when he was least expecting it. It starts as a dull ache in his throat that sharpens overnight into a constant, searing pain down his esophagus. His nose is somehow simultaneously full of pressure and also running endlessly. A constant tickle in his lungs sends him into coughing fits every few minutes. His head throbs, his body is sore, and he can’t sleep without sweating through his sheets.

Jesse McCree has a hell of a cold and he is _miserable_.

With the blackout curtains drawn and a blanket over his head, Jesse manages to sleep through two alarms and at least three calls from his squad mates (Shiga called first, cracking jokes about Sleeping Beauty; then Valdez, making light threats; and then Prithi, more worried than anything else - it was so _unlike_ Jesse to not show up for their morning PT) before anyone bothers banging on his door. Jesse pulls the blanket tighter over his head, trying to muffle the pounding that is surely in his head. His legs are exposed, a sock hanging off one foot; he can't really decide if he's hot or cold. He shifts again, switching sides to keep his nose from running all over his face, when someone snatches the blanket off his head.

“Wha - hey -!” Jesse says thickly, squinting up at the intruder. Gabe frowns down at him.

“You missed PT,” Gabe says. Jesse struggles to sit up.

“Aw, hell,” he says, dragging a hand over his nose. “Ugh.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, peachy,” Jesse says. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands. He wobbles and Gabe sticks out a hand to steady him.

“You're burning up,” Gabe says, taken aback. He moves a hand to feel Jesse’s forehead. It's a surprisingly gentle gesture, but maybe Jesse should be more used to that by now. Jesse blinks, going cross-eyed as he tries to look at Gabe’s hand.

“Jus’ a little cold,” Jesse says. He doesn't duck away from Gabe’s hand; it's pleasantly cool. Gabe frowns. Jesse shakes his head a little, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that he’s in trouble. “I’ll be okay. I’ll run laps or whatever -”

“Get back into bed,” Gabe says.

“What?”

“Bed, Jesse. You're sick.”

Jesse blinks then shakes his head quickly. It makes him dizzy, but he manages not to tip over.

“Nah - it's okay. I can keep going. It's nothing.”

Gabe is, somehow, already pressing Jesse back down to his tangled sheets. Jesse resists a little bit, but his body feels heavy.

“You can take a sick day,” Gabe says, pulling the blankets back to arrange them better. “Besides, I don't want you getting the rest of the squad sick.”

“But -” Jesse says as he goes down. He's too wobbly to put up much of a fight, and Gabe’s using it to his advantage. His head hits the pillow. Gabe pulls the blankets up around him.

“Sleep. I'll come check on you later.”

It does sound pretty good, if Jesse is willing to admit it. He mumbles some half-assed protest, eyes already closing, too exhausted to put up much of a fight. He feels Gabe's lips brush his forehead before he falls back asleep.

=-=-=

Jesse isn't sure how long he's asleep this time. It's still dark in his room, thanks to the thick shades over his window. His body aches and now he's shivering. He pulls his blankets closer as the memory of Gabe coming into his room comes back to him. It was definitely real: there's a glass of water on his nightstand that wasn't there before and he has both socks on his feet this time. There's also an extra blanket tucked around him.

Jesse tries not to let the shame bubble up inside him. Sickness was a weakness that Deadlock had beaten out of him; it didn't matter if your nose was running when there were weapons to fence. He knows better, now, than when he was a kid in the gang, but he can’t help the old feelings that come back to him in these moments. He desperately doesn’t want to disappoint Gabe, and he doesn’t want to do anything that might risk his position in Blackwatch, either. He’s worked hard to be the best that Blackwatch has to offer; he can’t let a cold take him out.

Hauling himself out of bed, Jesse shucks his sweaty PJs and pulls on his Blackwatch fatigues. He's moving slowly, his head still pounding with the sinus pressure. It's only when he's half-dressed that Jesse considers a shower, but, at that point, it seems like entirely too much work to get undressed, turn on the shower, wash his hair... Jesse heads out of his room before he even glances at the time on his tablet.

Jesse shuffles down to the mess hall, realizing only when he's halfway there that it's later than he thought. He's not exactly hungry, but he should find one of his squad mates to fill him in on what he missed. The only thought in his mind is that he _can’t_ fall behind, slip up, let his guard down. He can’t.

The usual suspects - Shiga, Prithi, Valdez and the Newtons - are just finishing up their dinner when Jesse plops down into a seat next to them.

“You look terrible,” Wake says, looking Jesse up and down. Valdez unsubtly moves slightly down the bench to give Jesse a wide berth.

“Commander Reyes said you were sick,” Prithi says. Jesse waves it off.

“‘M fine. What'd I miss?”

“Paperwork, mostly,” Shiga says.

“You look kind of sweaty,” Wake puts in. Tack nudges her. Valdez is making faces.

“Are you contagious?” she asks, watching Jesse pull a fistful of napkins from a dispenser on the table and shove them into his pocket.

“What? No,” Jesse says. He pushes himself back up. “I oughta get caught up.”

“Maybe you should go back to bed,” Prithi says.

“Or at least have some soup,” Shiga suggests. Jesse waves a hand again.

“Nah, I'm good,” he says. The sudden urge to cough wells up in his throat. He hurries away before he lets it out. His shoulders shake and his lungs rattle with the force of it. He has to stop and hunch over, wheezing until the attack passes. A few Overwatch agents give him a look as they leave the mess, hurrying away before Jesse has a chance to say anything. When he manages to catch his breath, Jesse makes his way to one of the debriefing rooms to pick up his assigned reports. Nobody’s there - it's late, after hours - so Jesse is unbothered as he signs out his paperwork and goes to find a quiet corner to work.

It's slow going. The sinus pressure is making it difficult to focus on the glowing screen, and his nose keeps dripping everywhere. The napkins that Jesse took from the mess are used up more quickly than he anticipated - and they’re rough on his nose. The coughs are coming more frequently, and worse. He does, however, manage to get through at least one pre-mission analysis. After he hits send, Jesse puts his head down on the table and closes his eyes. Just for a moment, he tells himself.

The next thing he knows, there's a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently awake.

“Jesse.”

Jesse peels his eyes open - it's dark, Athena must have cut the lights when no movement was detected - so it takes a moment to register Gabe standing over him.

“Just restin’ my eyes,” Jesse says. He lifts his head to sit up straight. It feels massive and heavy. He sinks down in his seat a little. “I'm catching up on reports.”

“Athena, lights,” Gabe says. The lights come up and the brightness hurts Jesse’s eyes. Still, there's no mistaking the disappointment etched across Gabe’s face. It makes something clench in Jesse’s chest. Jesse feels the cough start to well up again. He swallows it down as best as he can.

“There were a few pre-mission assignments -”

“You're supposed to be resting,” Gabe cuts him off. Jesse can hear the disapproval in his tone. He makes himself sit up straight again.

“Yeah, I slept a little today, but I'm better now,” Jesse says unconvincingly. He tries to be subtle about wiping his nose, but his lungs choose that exact moment to let out a series of coughs.

“Not by much.”

“I'm almost done here,” Jesse says. “I'll sleep again tonight and be back at it tomorrow.”

“I don’t think so,” Gabe shakes his head. He reaches for Jesse’s shoulder. “Come on.”

“No,” Jesse says, more forcefully this time. He ducks away from Gabe’s hands. “I'm not weak. I'm fine.”

“No, you're not.”

“I'm not -”

“You're not weak, Jesse,” Gabe says. “And you're not fine, either.”

Gabe reaches over Jesse’s shoulder. Jesse tries to duck away again, but Gabe wasn’t going for his arm; he grabs the tablet up instead. He brings up another screen and types in something that Jesse can't see.

“But -”

“Jesse,” Gabe says, his voice going softer. “You're allowed to get some rest. We give you sick days for a reason.”

Jesse screws up his face. “I don't want to fall behind.”

“You won't,” Gabe says. Jesse can't help but notice the note of confidence in Gabe’s voice, the worry in his eyes. It should make him feel better, but Jesse can't quite bring himself to believe it.

“I can do it,” Jesse insists. Gabe nods.

“I know you can.”

“Then -”

“Let’s get you to bed,” Gabe says. He's staring Jesse down, but there's no threat behind his eyes. Concern, maybe. Jesse swallows thickly. What did he do to deserve a man like Gabriel Reyes?

Finally, reluctantly, Jesse pushes himself up out of his seat and lets Gabe lead him back to Jesse’s quarters. Gabe stands aside and lets Jesse key in the code himself, keeping up the show for the Overwatch monitors in the hallway even though Gabe steps into Jesse’s room behind him a moment later.

“I logged you a sick day for tomorrow,” Gabe says. He clicks the tablet off and sets it on Jesse’s desk. “And a day off for myself.”

Jesse blinks at him. Gabe holds his gaze. “Someone has to make sure you actually _use_ the sick day.”

“But -”

“I don't take nearly enough days off. I can spare the one,” Gabe says, moving around Jesse to rearrange the blankets on the bed. Jesse still doesn't move.

“But -” he tries again. Gabe looks back at him, face softening.

“It's okay, Jesse.”

Jesse screws up his face. He can't help the feeling that Gabe is just _saying_ this to placate him. He trusts Gabe, he does, but it's been the case before that Overwatch extends their authority over Gabe’s, to Jesse’s detriment, leaving nothing for Gabe to do to mitigate the consequences. Gabe comes back over to Jesse and pulls him into his arms. Jesse resists for a moment, but the hand that Gabe runs up his back is soothing, reassuring. He lets his forehead drop to Gabe’s shoulder. Gabe presses a kiss into his hair and the fight goes out of Jesse almost all at once. He's too tired, too sore, too _sick_ to pick a fight when he knows, somewhere deep under his lingering insecurities, that Gabe is right.

“Let’s get you a shower. And then some more sleep,” Gabe says. “It still feels like you're running a fever.”

“Too much work,” Jesse mumbles into Gabe’s shoulder. Now that he's relinquished control to Gabe, the thought of staying upright much longer - let alone washing his hair - is too exhausting to even contemplate. Gabe doesn't say anything for a moment, still rubbing soothing circles over Jesse’s back. Jesse turns his head away from Gabe to cough.

“Let's go back to my room,” Gabe says finally. Jesse picks his head up to look at him.

“I've already got my germs all over you,” he says. “I don't wanna infect your room too.”

Gabe scoffs. “Enhanced,” he reminds Jesse. “My shower is bigger than the communal ones. And so is my bed.”

Jesse doesn't need much convincing after that. Gabe shuffles him out of Jesse’s room and up to his own. It's a long walk - or it at least feels that way. Jesse worries vaguely about the monitors in the hallway, but it's late enough that hopefully nobody’s looking too closely. They've been less subtle before. Gabe keys in his code and lets Jesse step in ahead of him. Jesse stands awkwardly in the middle of the room for a moment before Gabe comes over to him. He starts pulling up Jesse’s shirt.

“Shower now,” Gabe says. He helps Jesse undress, moving as slow as Jesse needs, steadying him when a coughing fit shakes his body. He guides Jesse into the bathroom and turns the shower on hot, keeping a hand on Jesse’s arm as he does.

“‘M not gonna fall over,” Jesse says, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

“I know,” Gabe says. He pulls something out of the medicine cabinet above his sink and rips the packet open with his teeth. He tosses what looks like a huge, circular pill into the bottom of the shower. It starts to dissolve under the hot water, filling the bathroom with some sort of vapor that makes Jesse’s chest open up. He sucks in a practically unobstructed lungful of air. _Bliss_.

“Oh fuck,” Jesse sighs. Gabe chuckles. He sheds his own clothes and crowds Jesse into the shower, front pressed to Jesse’s back.

“Menthol and eucalyptus,” he says into Jesse’s ear. Jesse leans his head back on Gabe's shoulder.

“I thought you were gonna say magic,” Jesse says. He didn't realize how out of breath he actually was until the steam started working its way through his sinuses. Gabe chuckles again.

“A little of that too.”

The hot water saps the rest of the energy out of Jesse’s limbs. He lets Gabe hold him up, simply able to enjoy breathing for a few minutes while Gabe moves his hands over his body, cleaning the stale sweat off his skin. Gabe’s fingers work shampoo through his hair. He deftly combs through the tangles, keeping his movements light, slow, unwilling to jolt Jesse out of his moment of peace. Jesse wishes he didn't feel so sick. Still, he's enjoying Gabe’s attention, now that he's finally let himself. It's a strange thing, being cared for, being taken care of, after so many years of having to do it all himself.

When the menthol-tinged vapor finally fades, Gabe reaches around Jesse and shuts off the shower. He bundles Jesse into a towel, rubbing another over Jesse’s hair to get most of the moisture out.

“You don't gotta…” Jesse starts to mumble. Gabe kisses his temple.

“I want to,” Gabe says, and Jesse knows - over the nefarious wheedling voice in the back of his mind - that Gabe means it. So he lets him.

Gabe finds an old pair of boxers and a worn-in sweatshirt for Jesse. He moves away to grab some extra blankets, a glass of water, and some cough medicine while Jesse dresses. He comes back a moment later to find Jesse rifling through a drawer.

“What are you looking for?” Gabe asks, slipping a hand over the small of Jesse’s back.

“Socks,” Jesse says, looking over his shoulder at Gabe. “I hate wearing ‘em but my toes are freezing.”

“Here - these. They're not too thick, but they're warm,” Gabe says, plucking a well-loved pair out of the drawer. Jesse tilts his head up towards Gabe, giving him a little grateful look. Gabe kisses his temple and lets Jesse go sit on the edge of the bed. Once Jesse’s pulled his socks on, Gabe hands him a tiny plastic cup full of a viscous, bright purple liquid. Jesse scrunched his nose.

“I hate this stuff,” Jesse says. He knocks back the cough syrup anyway.

“You’ll hate it less than keeping yourself up coughing all night,” Gabe points out. “And, besides, I'd like to get some sleep myself if I can.”

“I know, I know. I took it, didn't I?”

“Mm,” Gabe hums. He pulls back the blankets so Jesse can shimmy down underneath them. He slides in next to him once Jesse’s settled. Jesse wiggles close, tucking himself under Gabe's arm and resting his head on Gabe’s shoulder. “You're still running a fever.”

Jesse makes a little noise as Gabe’s voice rumbles under his ear. Gabe doesn't make a move to get up, just rubs his hand up and down Jesse’s arm, soothingly, lightly. Jesse’s breathing evens out and slows, going back to being slightly labored as the effects of the menthol vapor wears off. He lets his eyes slide closed. He feels safe here. Eventually, Gabe reaches to turn off the lights. Jesse shifts a little with the movement, but soon after, he's falling asleep. The cough syrup was strong.

It's some kind of miracle, but Jesse sleeps through the night. Gabe’s alarm goes off at some point, but it's only the movement of Gabe’s arm that makes Jesse stir.

“Wha…?”

“Sorry,” Gabe says, voice rough with sleep. “Forgot to turn it off.”

“Mm,” Jesse mumbles. He presses his face to Gabe’s chest again. “Mm. Mm?”

Gabe’s hand finds his forehead. It's surprisingly cool. It feels nice. Gabe moves his hand into Jesse’s hair.

“How do you feel?” Gabe asks. Jesse coughs a little into Gabe’s chest. He can practically feel Gabe roll his eyes. “Go back to sleep, then.”

Jesse’s sure that Gabe’s going to get up, but he doesn't. Instead, he rearranges Jesse so his head is propped up better. It has the effect of opening up Jesse’s airways again. Jesse curls his fingers into Gabe’s shirt.

“Love you,” he breathes. He falls asleep before he hears Gabe’s response.

Jesse ends up spending the day drifting in and out of sleep. At some point, Gabe does get up. Jesse thinks he heard Gabe’s stomach rumbling just before he moved, but Jesse can't be sure. He does know that Gabe’s gone for awhile and Jesse ends up shivering in Gabe’s bed alone. Just as he's about to fall back into a fitful sleep again, Gabe comes back with a bowl of hot oatmeal and a cup of tea that's been heavily doctored with honey and lemon.

“Sit up,” Gabe says, setting the bowl and mug on the nightstand. Jesse makes a small whining noise. Gabe runs a hand through Jesse’s hair again. “Don't whine at me. You need to eat.”

“I don't need to be babied,” Jesse protests, feeling a twist of shame coil in his stomach again. Gabe shakes his head.

“It's not about that, Jesse,” he says. He helps Jesse sit up.

“‘M not hungry,” Jesse says, not exactly managing to keep the petulant tone out of his voice. Fortunately, Gabe doesn't take offense.

“I know. But you need to.”

Jesse leans his head back against the wall as Gabe presses the cup of tea into his hands. Gabe putters around the room, keeping an eye on Jesse as he sips his tea. Gabe comes back to the bed to switch out the mug for the oatmeal and then disappears into the bathroom. Jesse makes himself take a couple of bites, but it tastes like nothing and swallowing is still hard. By the time Gabe comes back toting more cough medicine, Jesse's choked down a few bites. He holds the bowl up to Gabe.

“I can't eat any more,” Jesse says. Gabe peers into the bowl.

“At least you tried,” he sets the bowl aside. “Do you want more cough medicine? This isn't as strong as the night stuff.”

“Sure,” Jesse says, already burrowing back down into the blankets. He takes the cough syrup, knocks it back and then peers up at Gabe from under the blankets. “I hate this.”

Gabe chuckles. He slides back into bed and maneuvers Jesse so his head is in his lap. He runs his fingers gently through Jesse’s hair.

“I know.”

Jesse nudges his head into Gabe’s hand, letting his eyes slide closed again. “Well, not _this_.”

“I know that too,” Gabe chuckles again. He keeps petting Jesse, soothingly, tenderly. Jesse finds himself falling asleep again.

“Love you,” Jesse mumbles into Gabe's lap.

“Love you too, Jesse.”

=-=-=

Jesse drifts in and out of sleep the rest of the day, head in Gabe’s lap for most of it. Gabe keeps one hand in Jesse’s hair, using the other to scroll through his tablet. Even on his day off, Gabe is working. Sometime that night, Jesse scrubs a hand over his face and sits up. He squints around the room blearily, trying to piece together the last 24 hours or so. He turns to look at Gabe, who's set aside his tablet.

“How do you feel?” Gabe asks. Jesse rubs at his face again.

“Like I got hit by a train,” he says. It's not _that_ much of an exaggeration, given how sore his body feels, but he also has more energy than he did earlier.

“Hungry?”

Jesse’s stomach rumbles. He blinks. “Apparently.”

“Let's get you down to the cafeteria then,” Gabe says, swinging his legs out of bed and stretching his fingers toward the ceiling. Jesse watches as he tips forward, reaching down toward his toes. “It's late. You don't have to worry about infecting the rest of the base.”

Jesse makes a face but doesn't say anything as he gets up. He pulls on a pair of Gabe’s sweatpants - the advantage of having all the standard-issue Blackwatch stuff being that they can more or less share clothes without it being _too_ obvious - and follows Gabe down to the mess. The cough syrup is wearing off again so Jesse coughs the whole way there. It's later than Jesse thought; hardly anyone is there and it's nearly pitch black outside the mess hall’s windows. He's pretty sure he's going to wake up at least half of the base with his coughing.

Gabe shuffles him to the pots of soup and serves them each a bowl. They take their seats at the Blackwatch squad’s usual table in the far corner of the cafeteria. Jesse hunches over his bowl while Gabe goes back for some more substantial food for himself.

After sleeping away most of the day, Jesse’s head is feeling clearer again, which means the sickening feeling of shame is starting to bubble up again. He did nothing all day, he took Gabe away from his work - it’s _important_ work - and for Gabe to drop everything because Jesse lets himself succumb to a fucking _cold_ … He picks at the soup, pushing vegetables around in his bowl without really eating anything. Gabe comes back with a plate of chicken and rice. He glances at Jesse as he sits across from him.

“Cold?” Gabe asks, nodding to the soup. Jesse shrugs. Gabe frowns. “Do you want some rice instead?”

Jesse sits back, pushing the bowl away. “You don't have to do this.”

“I want to,” Gabe says mildly, his tone measured. Jesse can feel his eyes on him even though he refuses to look up to meet his eye.

“I don’t know why,” Jesse mumbles, barely audible. He hears Gabe shift forward in his seat.

“You know why, Jesse,” Gabe says, voice low. Hurt. Jesse swallows down a cough.

“I’m just - I oughta be better than this,” he says. There’s a slight pressure on his foot that Jesse knows is Gabe, pressing against the side of his foot with his own, the only reassurance Gabe can give him out here. Jesse finally looks up. Gabe’s face is soft, a little sad.

“Nothing you can do about a cold, Jesse,” Gabe says, his tone still pitched low, quiet. Jesse screws up his face and looks back down at the table.

“I’m… I’m not used to this,” Jesse says, finally, after a long pause.

“Being sick?”

“Being… taken care of,” Jesse mumbles. The pressure against the side of his foot increases. Jesse peeks up at Gabe. His hand is curled tightly around his fork.

“You’re not in this alone, Jesse,” Gabe says, enunciating each word deliberately. “You’re not on your own any more.”

Jesse shifts slightly in his seat. “I just ain’t used to it.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, hell no,” Jesse says quickly. He really wants to grab Gabe’s hand. He slides his own hands into his lap instead. “But I don’t want you to think…”

“I don’t think you’re weak. I think you’re stubborn as hell,” Gabe says. There’s no venom in his voice. He’s even smiling a little. “And I know you’d do the same for me.”

Jesse lets a breath out. He wheezes a little on the exhale, turning it into a cough, but he feels lighter.

“Did you eat enough?” Gabe asks. Jesse shrugs.

“Maybe we just go back to your room?” he suggests. Gabe pauses, then nods.

“Yeah?”

“I really - I really need to be holding you right now,” Jesse says, fully meeting Gabe’s eyes. He still doesn’t know how he’s managed to get here, what he’s done to deserve a man like Gabe at his side. “Just - thank you, Gabe.”

Gabe ducks his head, voice going gruff. “Don’t need to thank me.”

“Think I do,” Jesse says. Gabe shakes his head as he stands up to collect their trays. Jesse tilts his head up to look at him. Gabe pauses to give Jesse a tender, soft smile.

“I’ll meet you back at my room,” he says.

Fifteen minutes later and the two of them are both back in Gabe’s room. Gabe gets Jesse another dose of cough medicine while Jesse signs himself out for a sick day for the following day. He crawls back into Gabe’s bed and tugs Gabe down. Gabe manages not to spill the cough syrup everywhere.

“Take this before you spill it all over the place,” Gabe says. Jesse knocks it back then crowds in close, tucking his head into the crook of Gabe’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Jesse says again.

“Stop saying that,” Gabe says, giving him a little squeeze. Jesse tilts his head to look up at him.

“You just make me feel like… like a real person is all,” Jesse says. “I dunno how else to put it. But - it’s important.”

Gabe bundles Jesse up close, drawing the blankets up around them and slipping a hand into the hair at the back of Jesse’s neck. The cough syrup is already starting to settle heavy in Jesse’s head. His eyes are closing, lashes brushing against Gabe’s skin.

“I know what you mean,” Gabe says softly into Jesse’s hair. Jesse lets out a small sigh. He’s safe here. He doesn’t have to worry.

“Love you,” Jesse murmurs. “Thank you.”  



End file.
